Why I won’t return home

Today I want to bring you a story that I told you a couple of years back so that you can see how my wealth has grown in leaps and bounds. This is how it went. After many years of staying in my father’s compound, at last I moved away from Mzee Caleb’s home. It was never planned. But when I got my loan money, it was clear I was likely to differ with my father since he always believes that my money is our money, a position I have never agreed to.

That is the reason why last weekend, the old one was on my case demanding for money. All of a sudden, he had several things that he wanted me to do for him. At one moment he wanted me re-roof his house, yet at another, he wanted me to help him start a business.

“If you can give me money to buy 10 bags of maize,” my father said, “I will sell during famine and never ask you for money at all.”

I maintained that I had no money. But you know the people of Mwisho wa Lami – keeping secrets has never been their stronghold. No sooner had I given Cate and Fiolina money than this information reached my old man.

Once my father took one for the path at Hitler’s, he staggered back home in a foul mood. He started his shouting at the gate.

Leave compound

“You can’t give your father money yet you dish out money to women,” he said. “You must leave this compound,” he added as he approached my house. Not wanting to engage him in a quarrel, I stealthily left the compound using one of the many panyaroutes in our fence.

When I returned home that evening, Fiolina had not slept. “We have to move away from this home,” she said, “I can’t stand these abuses from your father.”

“Relax,” I told her. “Mzee is 1always like that when drunk, but once he sobers up, he will be our amicus once more.” But my father would not relent this time round. He was at our door early the next morning, and made it clear in no uncertain terms that I had to leave.

I left for school but after two lessons, I went to our market centre to look for a house. Most of the rooms available were one-roomed but I managed to get a two-roomed place.

I immediately paid for three months, and also went and bought a few house-hold items. This included a mattress, blankets, a stove and utensils. I got back home to find that Fiolina had again been chided by my father. Rumona, my brother’s wife, had not spared her either as they had quarrelled over our chicken that had been feeding in Rumona’s house.

“Me, I am not staying here,” she said. “Leo niRumona, kesho ni baba yako?” I told her to quickly arrange her things after which we left our home and we went to our two-roomed massionette at Mwisho wa Lami market centre.

Fiolina was so happy and although we only had a mattress and a few other items, she said: “This is better than the quarrels I undergo.” I had talked to a mkokoteniperson who carried some of our stuff from the home to the market centre. We, however, agreed that he carries the things at around 7 p.m. so as to avoid the prying eyes of our people.

However, when he went to pick our things, my father blocked him, saying that everything that was in his home was his property. We, therefore, left everything behind.

To celebrate our new independence, I bought a kilo of beef which Fiolina gladly prepared. And although we slept on a mattress that was on the floor, Fiolina really liked this. News that I had moved to a two-roomed house at the market spread in the entire region, and this found itself in the staffroom .

the next morning.